


Olneigh

by persistent_pedantry



Series: Just a Bunch of Technicolour Horses, but They're Angsty and Have Guns Now [2]
Category: Fallout: Equestria, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27241324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persistent_pedantry/pseuds/persistent_pedantry
Summary: A piece of descriptive writing describing Olneigh's hospital--and the horrors that lie within.
Series: Just a Bunch of Technicolour Horses, but They're Angsty and Have Guns Now [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988980
Kudos: 1





	Olneigh

**Author's Note:**

> There was a competition to do some descriptive writing, so I did a little background writing for a Fallout: Equestria fic I kept meaning to write. This isn't my go-to thing to write, decrepit hospitals, but it was nice to try out.

_It’s hard to describe what you can’t see. Even with a dim flashlight, magic fuelled by dimmer hope; the presence of death always seems to make the shadows more... desolating._

_You have to slip through a small, lengthways window to access the basement of Olneigh’s hospital. The glass is long since shattered, so it’s wise to smooth out the pane to prevent any more bloodshed. It smells like stone and... and death; the corpses are so varied in age that you can even pick out the pre-war ones. There’s Raider next to nurse, and pony next to a dead Thing. The Thing don’t really have a name, aside from nicknames, muttered in caution to the brave and foolhardy. Most common name’s Hospital Horrors, but you can call them whatever the hell you like; rotted ponies bearing eldritch, vine-like tongues used to feed and violate. They deserve nothing more than death._

_It’s amazing the building’s even stayed up long enough to house them. Evident even in the morgue, the hospital is aching to join its neighbours as rubble on the ground. Its walls are cracked and threaten to collapse, the ceiling having done so long ago. The place is littered with debris, used chems, discarded goods and bads... just don’t trip over anything._

_You go upstairs, the smell will get a whole lot worse. It’ll be more than just the stale must of death — it’ll be rotting flesh, the bile in the back of your throat. There’s some morbid comfort in finally hearing something, even if it’s the shambling of ill intent. The Things, they pace the halls like the nurses and doctors probably did all that time ago; makes you think about how long they’ve been there, eh? Well, the first floor is strewn with dismembered parts, both pony and machine, with rubble, old papers, and anything else that you might accidentally kick. Unless you can fly without making a sound, which isn’t even really possible, it’s no wise idea to go in there. Everything’s been ransacked and all the ways up to the upper floors have collapsed; it’s only a matter of time until the rest of the building follows suit._

“So... people don’t really go in there?” Code asks, leaning in intently.

“Except for senseless Raiders and masochists, yeah,” the older stallion replies, shakily yapping a hoof against his empty glass. “The Things are reduced to base instincts. They just wanna kill and increase their numbers. Ain’t a good idea for mares to go in there.”

“Good thing I’m not a mare, then,” he replies dryly.

The stallion doesn’t respond, only giving a mildly surprised expression.

“Aw, piss off.” Code gets up from his seat, impatiently waving the bartender over. “Look, will it give me room to escape or not?”

“What, from your Archive fellas?” The stallion asks, scoffing as his drink is refilled. “They won’t follow you in. Not if they’ve got any sense.”

He nods, blinking away the urging exhaustion as he trots to the door. “Good enough for me.”


End file.
